


A River in Egypt

by AeroplanesR0ck



Series: Safe in Your Hands [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Butt Plugs, Cock Cages, Come Marking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom John, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possessive John, Sub Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 01:37:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8231617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeroplanesR0ck/pseuds/AeroplanesR0ck
Summary: Cuddling, with a little twist.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that took hold of me and wouldn't let go, partly because I've never seen anything quite like it in fic, so I really wanted to give it a try. Hope it works! 
> 
> P.S. This was supposed to be less of sex and more of Sherlock squirming and desperate while John cuddles him and maybe reads a book but y'know...John's so bad at ignoring Sherlock. Just so bad.

John was having a lovely, lazy evening in with his boyfriend. He lay in bed, holding and petting Sherlock, who was lying on his chest. Sherlock, for his part, was having an entirely different experience. He quivered in John’s hold, wanting to writhe and twist, but wanting even more to obey John’s order to just lie still for him. He turned his head slightly to nuzzle into John’s chest, drawing in deep lungfuls of his scent. The reason for his agitation was lodged deep in his arse, driving him crazy with the vibrations. His cock strained against its cage, unable to get hard, but already drooling precome in copious amounts. The remote to the plug lay right in front of him, inches from his face. Sherlock itched to reach out and grab it, although whether to turn it off or turn it up, he wasn’t sure. His fingers clenched and unclenched around John’s bicep in his effort to resist. He never touched the remote when the plug was in him. That was for John. The words John had spoken the first time they used the plug, the first time John fucked him properly, echoed in his mind.

_“It is my choice to give you pleasure, or pain, as I choose. When I choose. Understand?”_

John provided him both generously, and had proven himself to be remarkably inventive. What they were doing now was an excellent example of John’s inventiveness- pleasure, turned to a kind of pain through the denial of his locked cock. Present also was the third thing John had not mentioned, but still provided copiously- affection. One of John’s hands was buried in Sherlock’s hair, kneading rhythmically at his scalp, while the other swept slowly up and down Sherlock’s bare back.

“How’re you holding up, love?” John murmured quietly to Sherlock.

Sherlock groaned softly. That was a difficult question to answer. Was he enjoying this? Yes. Could he keep going? Yes. Did he want to? He honestly didn’t know. 

John read most of this in Sherlock’s expression and body language. He smiled, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s forehead. “Do you want to come?”

Sherlock shook his head. If he didn’t come tonight, he’d be wired up all day tomorrow, desperately horny and over-sensitive to John’s touch. Sometimes, like when he was on a case, it became too much of a distraction, and he’d have to go to John, and beg to come, and John would tug him into a bathroom stall, or a supply closet, or an alleyway, and let Sherlock fuck his fist, quick and dirty, until he came, shuddering and gasping and trying to muffle his moans and whines as he spilled his seed into John’s cupped hand. Other times, though, he just left himself on the edge, savouring the deliciously arousing feeling of his cock throbbing in its cage as he ached for John’s hands on him. 

John rolled them over so that now Sherlock was pinned beneath him, the both of them still pressed together from hip to sternum. Sherlock spread his legs expectantly, but John shook his head. 

“Not this time.” He murmured. 

John began to work his hips, his already half-hard cock sliding against warm metal and warmer flesh. Sherlock moaned, relaxing back against the bed, offering up his body for John to rut against. As John’s thrusts grew in urgency, he gripped Sherlock’s hips, his forehead pressed to Sherlock’s shoulder as he ground mindlessly against Sherlock’s thigh. He threw his head back, gasping out Sherlock’s name as he came all over the both of them, pearly white streaks spattered across Sherlock’s stomach and chest. 

John reached out, grabbing the remote and turning the plug off. He reached down, carefully sliding it out and setting it on the bedside table. They’d need to wash that, later. For now, John gazed down at Sherlock as their breaths and heartbeats slowed in tandem, though John was considerably more sated than Sherlock. John’s eyes roamed over the myriad ways Sherlock’s body proved that he was John’s- from the cage around his cock to the come streaking his torso, the little tattoo on Sherlock’s left breast and the bite marks that littered Sherlock’s neck. John gave a low, satisfied hum. 

“Mine.” He murmured. He’d never really been a possessive man before Sherlock, but Sherlock brought out many feelings in him that he’d never really encountered before.

Sherlock preened under John’s gaze, stretching beneath him, showing of the long, gorgeous lines of his body. He smiled beatifically up at John. “Yours.” He agreed, pulling him down for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I realised that butt plugs have featured in many of the scenes I've written. What can I say? I love them. Also come getting everywhere- a) it's true, and b) it's hot.


End file.
